Throw a wisp of silk into the shuttle's heart and weave nine machines again and again. I never know how much I know, and I hate the spring breeze for a long time.

a machine

A machine, picking mulberry and trying on spring clothes. It's sunny and warm, and on the peach branches, warblers sing and refuse to let people go home.

Two machines

Two machines, pedestrians were immediately delayed. I couldn't bear to pay lightly, but I turned and smiled. I returned the flowers for fear of being known.

Sanzhangji

Third machine, Wu silkworm is old and young. The Dongfeng banquet will stop at Changzhou Garden, and the ladies-in-waiting will change their dancing clothes.

Zhang Si machine

Four machines, black eyebrows in the dumb voice. Back to weaving lotus seeds, the flowers are easy to swallow, the heart is difficult to complete, and the pulse is like silk.

Wuji

Five machines with stripes woven with Shen Lang's poems. The central sentence says that no one will, don't worry, don't worry, don't worry, just send acacia.

Liuzhangji

Six machines are playing with flowers. There were even two butterflies among the flowers, who stopped for a day and watched alone in the window shadow for a long time.

After seven machines, Yuanyang hesitated to knit. I'm afraid of being chopped lightly, flying in two places and hating you once. What's your plan?

Baji, palindrome, do you know which poem it is? Woven into a desolate meaning, I kept reading, speechless, unable to bear to think more.

Nine machines, two flowers, two leaves and two branches. Since ancient times, fickle feelings have been separated from each other, and from beginning to end, my heart has been tied with a thread.

(2)

Jade shuttle flies, tears rain weaves nine machines Spring breeze can't understand sad sentences, and it is very tired to lean against clear shadows to get clothes.

A machine, a smoke lock in the jade building, resentment and sorrow, and the heart whispers lotus tears at night. The idle clouds are curling up, and this feeling is hard to rely on, waiting for the jade person to return.

Two machines, the dusk curtain is deep and the smoke is low, and the breeze cuts the homesickness. On the shore, the flowers and shadows dance, and the stars and the moon follow.

Three machines, hand-woven shuttle late, spring red covered with green warbler. Yuanyang playing in the water, grass pool roots stay, curtain when * * *.

Rouge powder four machines, want to call the world of mortals into remembrance. The face is not there, and the distant mountains are helpless. Who is Shannon wearing?

Five machines, the trace is uncertain, how can Bodhi solve it? Poetry is in the notes, sorrow and joy are in the individual, and butterflies are dancing in the clothes.

Six machines, sad and infatuated, smoke everywhere. Slapping Luo Xiao, singing after drinking and drinking are all old sayings.

Seven machines, heart to heart, knowing each other, shallow strings, clouds and dreams in Qingshan. Xianfeng talks, the mountains are ups and downs, hitting the water and sprinkling cold branches.

Eight machines, dancing jade pen shows charm, but how can you hurt toad GUI A wisp of ghosts, deeper cold quilt, regret looking back.

Nine machines and two hearts are close to each other, and the cold plum is proud of the snow. Singing flowers and singing the moon, dancing red and dancing green, when married to Fengchi.

(3)

A machine. The time of knitting flies. Lan Fang never sleeps at night. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Two machines. Under the moonlight, people are quiet and quiet. Are inextricably linked. Weave it into a piece, weave it into brocade and send it to Iraq.

Three machines. There is a flower playing in the middle. Delicate red, tender green and bright spring. Be sure to fold it early, one thick and one colorful, and don't treat wheat straw.

Four machines. Yuanyang wants to fly together as soon as she knits. The poor old man is white first. Spring waves of green grass, deep in Han Xiao, are relatively bathed in red.

Five machines. The period when the soul is tempted. The branches of Albizia Albizia are connected together. Under the double-headed flower, two concentric places, a pair of young people.

Six machines. Carved flowers and brocade are half separated. Lan Fang has no intention of staying in spring. Furnace seal script is a long line, and embroidery is late.

Seven machines. Spring silkworms spit out all the raw silk. If you don't teach, it's easy to behead Luo Qi. Cai Feng, the immortal bear for no reason, has two kinds of clothes.

Eight machines. Delicate hands live all the time on the charming banks of the Shu River. Musk deer, embroidered quilt in greenhouse, delayed to return.

Nine machines. A heart grows in a hundred flowers. A hundred flowers blossom and a pile of quilts are red. I hide my head in spring, so I'm not afraid of sleeping for a long time.

(4)

Nine machine tunes, and nine in one, without slogans.

One shuttle at a time. I don't know when I got tangled up yet. Outside the diamond window courtyard, purple bamboo is choking, and songs are friends.

Two machines, spring dust makes old woven clothes early. It's hard to dream of falling into pink. Yellow flowers and green grass, Qinren Lane, singing every night.

Sanji, Sandy wove for you, ashamed to hide Luo Jinqiao's mind. Golden Zun sings late, the moon leans on the window paper, and he is drunk in a dream.

Four machines want to weave a shuttle breaker, but the east wind is too thin. The string is broken and the boring swallow is gone. When is the return date?

Five machines, horizontal stripes weave Lu Lang's poems, and the old people are thin and afraid of flowers in spring. Tears hide, the red raft is difficult to continue, and I dare not say acacia.

Six machines, Han Xiao made a mistake and complained about cold painting. When the first frost came back, white hair was faintly visible in the rhombic mirror.

Seven machines, all connected by branches, suddenly spread the bluebird late, Daishan can be solved, shake the red candle shadow, and wish to live together?

Eight machines, palindromes, but it is difficult to follow the shuttle, and there is no trace of the moon. A fragrant burial, I wish I could bury my tears and never walk again.

Nine-machine weaving swallows paint the west of the building, and dreams are still sent to Lanxi. Tears, such as thread, twine in the heart and break the heart.

Nine machines spread acacia, and plain hands become branches. The Milky Way flies far away, and Yi Zheng is drunk and dancing in the snow.

(5)

Nine machine tunes, and nine in one, without slogans.

A machine, flowing clouds around the spring embankment. Orchids are crimson and fragrant with grass. Jade bone of Ice Muscle and Cui Dai of Rouge are relatively bathed in red.

Two machines, the fragrance of the temples is light. I am ashamed to hold the lotus root arm. Looking back and smiling, the fog is condensed and the painting is self-pity.

Third machine, the cold is still decorated with willow branches. The stars are thick and the moon is shallow, and the tears are condensed. Affectionate and meaningful, Yuanyang vows of eternal love, the most intimate.

Four machines, flowers bloom and fall, and the shadow is Qi Fei. Spring breeze can't understand the taste of sadness. Qing Zun Su wine, fragrant and special to stir up feelings, obsessed all night.

Five machines, it rains day and night. Peach blossoms bear fruit of comfort. The mountain forest dreams far away, the Joan pot is knocked out, and the brocade is full of words.

Six machines, the Milky Way breaks two feelings. Meng Luan's heart has been remembering. When the flowers are cut, the bell is sparse to remind dawn, and acacia is sent several times.

Machine seven, worried about wine tasting late. On the way to Han Xiao, there is no plan. Painting a building with clouds and rain, the night is silent, and a dream breaks the dust and mud.

Eight machines, meet in a dream, and look forward to returning in spring. Qin Zheng's tuning post sounds like tears. Palace merchants are difficult to manage, and strings sound like dreams. Where can we find a spirit?

Jiu Ji, Xiao Shu, Jin Zi, Qing Zi. The porch windows are dark and colorful. The cloud was drunk, and Qiong Gui believed it, but she was helpless.

(6)

A machine. There is no doubt among peers. The red candle in the pepper room is unwilling to sleep. Phoenix falls on the fence, I hate weaving, and the other side waits for Lang to return.

Two machines. Mozi Dongcheng's voice is very sparse. Jade steps are empty. Who knows, Jingfu is cool in spring, and it is hard to sleep.

Three machines. Lead flowers are light and fragrant. The flowers in the deep courtyard are charming and intoxicating. My heart is gentle, my flying phoenix is growing, and I am worried about living this life.

Four machines. Wearing beautiful skirts and whispering to each other. Cloud, red makeup, Chunhua Ning. Shadows linger, mandarin ducks become empty, and phoenix strikes jade.

Five machines. Exquisite waiter Huan Hansha. Long hate loneliness. Picking the fragrance of edelweiss, I am afraid of myself, and the night is still.

Six machines. Lotus is the most pitiful in the fog. Beauty and elegance can withstand withering. The blessings are endless, the dust is not dyed, and the strings are lonely.

Seven machines. Pucao is as tough as silk. Qixia is full of beauty after the moon falls. Green willows are fluttering, sad and beautiful, and smoke locks draw pearls and eyebrows.

Eight machines. Dedicated to the world. The shadow of the moon is oblique and hidden in red. Who can shed tears when the hands are still pitiful?

Nine machines. The disgusting snow shook and caught a glimpse. The moon is short and the jade is broken. Purple clothes and butterflies dream, abandon lingering, and think about the prosperous years.